Todays skiing, and this evenings post, bring you two lessons:
1) Fat skis are good.
2) Perseverance pays off.
Let us address each point briefly, beginning with the first. Hiding up in those white’d out little trees was 2-3 feet of the purest cold smoke. More in spots. The pitch in the far looker’s-left of the picture, which we skied, is between 35 and 40 degrees. First time getting the Marquette BCs charging in that much super-light snow, and on terrain that steep.
They absolutely kill it. With a speed limit, certainly, but hoooollleeee shit. Given how few skis I’ve skied, I can’t tease out the length v. tip rocker v. width. Let me just say that in the steep and deep the clown shoes perform like real skis.
Pause to grab that camera with these guys and you’re gapped immediately.
I set out by myself today, puttered around looking for a good access to a drainage, didn’t find anything that wasn’t a heinous bushwack, gave up, got annoyed, went somewhere else. Found a skintrack, went up, recognized Ben amongst a group via his green pants (above). Tagged along, skied wicked powder in zones I wouldn’t have ventured into alone.
My legs are wrecked (just got a momentary instep cramp in my left foot, sure sign of a hard/good day), and I am happy.
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